


Like Old Times

by ClothesBeam



Series: Prowlastator [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Mentions of Suicide, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClothesBeam/pseuds/ClothesBeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl and Chromedome get their reconciliation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Old Times

Prowl was back in his office, flicking through photos of the latest crime scene. Like old times, he had ordered a full body autopsy, and was waiting for the results to come back so he could test his theory.

The door to his office slid open and he glanced up to find Chromdome with the report in hand. There was a brief moment of awkward uncertainty before the bot strode into the room and slapped the data pad down on the desk.

“Trauma to the processor, evidence of clumsy mnemosurgery, and a penetrating blow slightly to the right of the spark chamber. It caused enough frame trauma to seal the death,” he summarised in a monotone.

“Do you know what they achieved, or tried to achieve, with the operation?” Prowl asked formally, still reeling from the sudden reappearance of his old forensics officer. Prowl hadn't even been aware he'd decided to stay on Cybertron since the Lost Light's brief return.

Chromedome hesitated again before continuing. “It seems they tried to erase blackmail material from the memory, but upon realising their failure, they shot and ran.”

He avoided looking at Prowl’s scowl. “Where have I heard this before?”

“Look, I… I have been meaning to apologise for that, but you can’t just blame me. Let’s go talk about this outside of work.”

“Oh, I would love to,” Prowl said, bitter sarcasm already evident, “but I find myself getting sleepy around intoxicating beverages.”

“Oh, I forgot I did that…”

Prowl stood, hands already reaching for the underside of his desk. “HOW CAN YOU FORGET SOMETHING LIKE THAT?”

Chromedome leaped to the side and shrank against the wall, just clearing the flying desk. It skidded across the ground and knocked against the opposite wall, datapads flying everywhere. “Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s been my job for millions of years. But I’ll undo it!”

“As if I’d trust you anywhere near my processor again!”

“Well, perhaps if you hadn’t tried to blackmail me into doing something that was literally driving me insane!”

The accusation stung. _Stupid conscience_. “Oh what, then you continued breaking your promise to Rewind for the rest of his days anyway, starting with me!”

Chromedome’s fists clenched at the low blow, but the door sliding open diverted their attention. Mixmaster stood in the doorway with folded arms and tutted. “Prowl, you do realise all of this furniture and tech comes out of your pay check, don’t you?”

“Let’s go already!” Scavenger added, positively bouncing up and down behind him. “The others are waiting outside.”

He sighed frustratedly, but had given up on denying the gestalt long ago. “Then let’s go,” he said, moving across the room to right his desk and grab the file Chromedome had come to bring him in the first place.

_PROBABILITY OF SUICIDE FOR DESIGNATION:“CHROMEDOME” IF ALONE: 25.02%_

The computer’s input: ever unasked for and always interfering. “Are you coming?”

Chromedome looked surprised to be included, but he nodded anyway. Prowl regretted saying what he had about Rewind, knowing the mech would still be in a bad place. He couldn’t just leave him to his own devices for the night.

* * *

 

The seven of them arrived at the bar, and Prowl bundled himself into a seat closest to the wall along one of the tables. Scavenger and Hook piled in alongside him, happy to leave the drinks ordering to Mixmaster and Bonecrusher. Long Haul returned with a reinforced chair made for battle mechs of his size and plopped down at the end of the table. Chromedome sidled in to sit opposite Prowl.

They met each other’s gaze once or twice, and Prowl felt the uneasiness of the gestalt as his old attraction to the mech resurfaced. “Now, what were you going to say?” he asked.

Chromedome glanced at the Constructicons uneasily. “I’d hoped we could talk about this _alone_.”

Prowl smirked. “This is about as alone as I get these days. Thanks to the gestalt that was forced on us, they already know everything about what happened between us anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bonecrusher said from behind Chromedome with a leer, “ _everything_.” He put three light drinks down at their end of the table before taking the seat next to Chromedome. Mixmaster passed out the stronger stuff to the other Constructicons bar Scavenger.

Chromedome sighed. “Fine, I’m sorry for what I did to you and that it led to something so,” he glanced at the Constructicons huddling around the table, “terrible.”

“Watch it, you little nerd,” Bonecrusher snarled.

“Yeah!” Scavenger added as meanly as he was able.

Prowl sent each of them a _look_ over the rim of his glass before adding, “And I shouldn’t have threatened to blackmail you, but I think knowing Overlord’s secret was more important to the cause than one person’s sanity.”

Chromedome looked exasperated. “I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get from you.”

“Probably,” Prowl agreed, already beginning to feel sleepy. “We shouldn’t stay for long.”

Noticing this, Chromedome looked guilty again. “Look, I did that to you because you’re always so tightly wound. It was good to have something that’d make you relax easily.”

“Well, you could have thought to change me back before running off on your little space expedition,” Prowl muttered.

“Yeah!” Scavenger said, trying to be supportive.

Prowl cycled his optics and left the Constructicons to devolve into their own banter. He and Chromedome sat on their drinks as the others went through another three rounds. Prowl glanced at the mech appreciatively, processor stuck in the past, it seemed.

“What is it Prowl?” Bonecrusher asked suddenly, turning back to them. “You want to take him home with us?”

Prowl deadpanned at the connotation, but nodded nonetheless. “You’re depressed Chromedome, and you’ve proven to be suicidal in the past. It’s better if you’re not alone after what I said earlier.”

He didn’t deny it, simply pushed his empty glass away. “Then let’s go. You’re not the only one who’s tired.”

It wasn’t until Prowl began to stand that the others polished off their current round in a rush. They exited the bar and made their way through the quietening streets to Prowl and the Constructicons’s living quarters.

As soon as they had closed the door to their apartment, the Constructicons started their usual rounds of groping and dirty talk, since Prowl had adamantly banned them from so much as leering at him in public.

He was about to snap something at them about having a guest, but Chromedome walked up to him until their faces were almost touching. “I miss Rewind,” he muttered, “are you going to try and help me with that too?”

Prowl’s spark had been aching for his ex all night, but he felt it would really only lead to more misery. Surprisingly, the Constructicons were now egging him on instead of acting jealously. He let the decision be made for him when Chromedome pushed himself against his torso.

The mnemosurgeon touched his face gently, but thought better of cupping the back of his head when Prowl flinched. “Prowl,” he murmured, burying his head in his shoulder. He traced the line of his hips and eventually let his hands rest on his aft.

He kissed the middle of his yellow visor before pushing him onto the desk he kept in his living quarters. Chromedome let himself be shoved into a sitting position on the desk while Prowl groped his crotch area.

He sighed gently, fingers digging into Prowl’s shoulders. “Let me… let me fix what I did, after this,” he murmured. “Get your medic over there to supervise if you want but…” He was cut off when Prowl pushed him down and leaned over him, his own interfacing panel already pushed aside.

Chromedome opened to him, desperate for things to escalate. “We’ll worry about that later,” Prowl murmured next to his audial, tracing a finger over his bared port. “You want my plug in you?”

“Don’t make me ask for it,” he grumbled, and suddenly Prowl was taken back to the first time they had done this. He’d always responded moodily whenever Prowl started trying to talk dirty.

“I’ll take it if he won’t!” Scavenger offered, and the rest of the Constructicons roared with laughter. Perhaps Prowl could relate to Chromedome’s frustration with them on some level.

“Can’t you lot entertain yourselves for a while?” he asked, turning slightly so he could see them, hands still on Chromedome’s thighs.

Hook pushed past Scavenger and Mixmaster, who had shrugged and all but dogpiled the other ‘Cons at his suggestion, and pressed himself against Prowl’s back. “But I want you,” he murmured, resting one servo on Prowl’s waist and the other on his chest.

He leaned forward and spread his legs a little, not exactly wanting to say no to the medic. He took a hold of Chromedome’s hips and pulled him to the edge of the table, making sure they were arranged comfortably before Hook joined in.

“Prowl,” Chromedome groaned, gripping his forearms as if for dear life. Hook entered him from behind and he sighed softly in content, everything quickly becoming a blur of shared pleasure.

* * *

 

Prowl put the normal energon down in front of Chromedome, who was still awake and sitting at his home desk. “What are you thinking about?”

Chromedome shook his head and stayed silent.

“I _know_ you didn’t just come here for a frag.”

“I just… I want to put everything back to how it was, then get rid of these,” he said, holding up his servo and letting the mnemosurgery needles extend, “permanently.”

Prowl could feel Hook was awake and listening to them, unlike the others. “Hook, one of the Constructicons, can supervise the surgery and then replace your fingertips.”

He slowly nodded. “Then let’s do it.”

Hook exited the berthroom and Prowl felt the bond open right up, as though the two of them were trying to form Devastator on their own. “ _I’m ready,_ ” he said both out loud and through the bond. The other gestalt members stirred in their rest, but didn’t wake to interfere.

Prowl sat down at the desk and Hook stood next to him with his servo on his shoulder. He subtly flinched when Chromedome’s servo rested on the back of his head, but let him continue. He stiffened when the needles penetrated his processor, a disturbingly familiar feeling.

_I see, the gestalt bond feels like someone is always doing this to you._

_Not always, but for now Hook needs to see what’s going on,_ Prowl corrected as Chromedome began sifting through his mind.

He quickly came to the insertion that forced Prowl to associate high grade with relaxation. The link was removed swiftly and painlessly, and the memory of him putting it there was restored. _Just remember, you’re still a notorious lightweight._

Prowl was about to retort, but Chromedome had already found the breakage that was blocking him from accessing the information he was going to use as blackmail. _You’re trusting me to do this, so I’ll trust you not to misuse this knowledge. By MY definition, not yours,_ he added.

 _That’s brave_ , Prowl remarked sarcastically.

Everything clicked back into place, and Prowl remembered. Remembered walking in on Tumbler fragging a certain senator while he was rebounding from his last Conjunx Endura’s death. _On second thought, maybe I don’t need that image in my processor._

 _Shut up._ He withdrew his surgical needles and the world returned to normal.

When Prowl onlined his optics he saw that Hook had set up a line of delicate instruments on the tabletop. “Before you get those removed, are you sure you don’t want to retrieve any of your own memories?”

He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “On the contrary, I'm tempted to erase more before I remove my surgery capabilities, but I will keep what I have.” His look became distant.

Not that Prowl was usually one to spout relationship advice, but he felt the surgeon needed to hear it. “Chromedome, they were all vitally important to you. You should mourn them properly and move on.” He stood to let the next patient sit down. “I know you’re upset, you should be, but that’s no reason to end everything.”

Chromedome sat and splayed his hands so Hook could begin working. “I got my name because of my mnemosurgery skills, but I’m never going to do that again. For Rewind’s sake as much as my own.”

Prowl tilted his head in mild surprise, but didn’t interrupt the forensics officer.

“I am…" He glanced down briefly before looking straight ahead. "Call me Tumbler.”


End file.
